


We Met on a September Day

by DoIEverForgetThePie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gas-N-Sip, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4443302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoIEverForgetThePie/pseuds/DoIEverForgetThePie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel recounts a tale a heart break over a man with green eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Met on a September Day

**Author's Note:**

> So, I recently discovered Beau Taplin's writing and I'm head over heels in love with the style (and most of the poems make me think of sad destiel AUs because everything makes me think of those two). Anyway, I just wrote a little something. Mostly to try to get me re-inspired to work on my s11 fic. One day, I may turn this into an actual fic, but I wouldn't recommend holding your breath.

    We met on a September day. I remember because it wasn’t a typical day for that time of the year. The sun hung over head and burnt us up like a midsummer day, even though fall would be inching in soon. You told me your name was Dean, and I watched you turn that water bottle up and drain it in the parking lot of that run down Illinois gas station. And I wished your lips could fit to mine the way you fit them to the lip of that bottle.

And as you slid into that long black car of yours, you asked me if I needed a lift with one hand on the wheel and the other leaning on the door frame. You looked like you did it all the damn time. So, I don’t think you could see that I was counting the freckles on the bridge of your nose or memorizing the way the corners of your eyes creased when you smiled.

We drove down the interstate with the windows down, and you told me about your life. About how your mother had burned up, and you were just a soldier to your father’s grief. Then you talked about your brother, and you smiled even though you told me that you walked away from him, so you didn’t bring him down. You said you were bad news, but I couldn’t believe that someone with eyes that shined like yours could ever be bad.

    Our car rides eventually turned into motel rooms and cheap liquor that we’d stay up and drink until 4 in the morning. Somewhere between the diner food and static laced porn, I fell in love. I like to believe that you did, too.

    Maybe you did, but you never out and out said the words. You didn’t really need to because eventually you stopped asking for two beds in the motel room, and we’d wake up in a tangle of sheets. I’d watch you wake slowly, with your lips curling up at the edges. You’d trace the dip of my collar bone and say that I saved you. I found myself falling more in love with those sleepy hooded eyes and beautiful pink lips. I should have told you what you did for me.

I should have told you how I was trudging through my days, half alive and without purpose until I saw those damn green eyes of yours. How I likened them to a forest. How I never hesitated to get lost in them, because I never thought I’d have to find my way out.

I woke up one day in the bed alone, and you were sitting at the tiny table in the corner. The sun bathed your skin in an ethereal light. Your sleepy smile that usually greeted me had been replaced with a tightly drawn line, and your fingers drummed a staccato rhythm on the Formica table top.

You whispered my name and told me you were sorry. We got in your car, and you started driving back toward that tiny Illinois town I had never wanted to see again because you said I needed to go home. We fought, not for the first time. But for the first time I broke down in your arms, because this wasn’t supposed to be the end of things. You said that my life wasn’t over and said that maybe we’d see each other again someday. Then you called me your angel and kissed me goodbye, and I swear you pulled part of my soul from my body and stole it away.

I watched the tail lights of that damn classic car fade away as I stood in the dark under the street light in front of the only bar in my hometown. I thought about all the times those windows had been fogged with passion while you touched me. Meaningful looks in the back seat while you kissed down my chest because that’s the only way you knew how to tell me you loved me.

You were right. My life wasn’t over, but there wasn’t any part of my brain or heart that didn’t think I wasn't. My sister never asked where I had been for the past year. Even when I showed up half out of my mind on her door step in the middle of the night. She told me I could stay and didn’t make me get out of bed when I thought I was dying.

My presence eventually started fights with my sister and her new husband. Even though she said I was always welcomed, I took to sleeping in my car. It was better that way.

I started smoking cigarettes when I got my job at the Gas-n-Sip just on the edge of town, the very same one were we met. Maybe I started smoking because I thought the cigarettes would keep your spark alive in me. I needed to remember you because a faded Polaroid folded up in the crease of my wallet didn’t do justice to how bright your eyes were or how big your smile was for me.

Sometimes I go on dates with a lady named April if you can call what we do a date. We sit outside Biggerson’s and chain smoke cigarettes. There are times when I go home with her because the backseat of a Lincoln doesn’t make a great bed. April kissed me, and we had sex because it seemed like something two people do when they are lonely. April told me she loved me as we laid on her bed, spent and sticky with sweat. It made me feel empty because I remember the days of laying with you and professing my love. I saw the same hope in April. The same attachment to someone too far away to ever be reached. So, I told her I couldn’t keep it up and gathered my clothes and went back to sleeping in my car.

It’s been nearly a year and a half since the last kiss we shared. It’s getting harder to remember the drawl of your voice, but when I heard that sinful voice fill my ears from over the sales counter it all snapped back into place.

_“I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols.”_

I didn’t know why you came back, or what to think about you being there. There were pieces of me I saw in you. Pieces that you took with you from a time so long ago, it seemed like another life. What was left of me for myself split into two pieces. One which would have jumped back into the passenger seat with you and spent the rest of my life on a two lane road right by your side. The other piece that pulled away, afraid to allow you entry, because letting you leave me again would certainly have killed me.

You told me you’d be there to stay. You invited me to the apartment you bought in the city, and you told me to stay the night.

Days turned to weeks, then weeks to months, and you were still there.

Then one day, I sat on the kitchen floor crying because that damn crystal vase that had been your mother’s spread across the ground in shards and I knew how angry you would be. You came in from the bedroom with soft eyes and pulled me from the floor. You kissed my forehead and told me it was okay. That was the first time you ever said you loved me.

I think that’s when I realized the months would turn to years. Then the years would bleed into a lifetime. And I knew, that what they say about distance making the heart grow fonder was more true than I had ever believed.


End file.
